It All Runs Together
by Brain and Eggs
Summary: Andrea faces a loss, and in doing so, realises who cares.


She stared at the picture, and was sure that if time suspended reality, or fast forwarded, or travelled faster than the speed of light like Superman, she was sure that if all of that could happen, she could actually feel the photo frame smash into a million tiny pieces beneath her fingers. If she allowed her fingers to grip harsher than she ever had done in her whole life.

The picture of her at the age of seven and her nine year old brother Alexander. Even in that picture he was wearing one of their grandfathers army caps. He had announced by thirteen that is what he would be doing. Saving the world, like Superman. But in an Army get up.

By eighteen he left home with nothing but the fevering hope, will and drive to save and to help lives.

She remembered that day like it was only moments ago. Her fifteen year old self begging him to change his mind, that he was insane, that he was going to get blown up. Instead he had looked at her with the same spark in his eye that he had held when he had poured green food colouring all over her spaghetti and telling her they were space worms coming to eat out her brain.

He had looked at her the same way and told her, true he could get himself blown up, but if he was going to do that, he was going to take a few sons of bitches with him.

Ten years later, and it actually happened. He and the rest of his platoon had been hiding out in a little village just outside of Mali. There had been a small school, three teachers and thirty terrified young children.

A little girl of five had been caught between two walls that were caving in, and he was the only one who had gone back for her. Gone back even when it was a suicide mission to anybody else, to save the little girl with the pink bow in her hair.

He had pushed her out of a fractured window and she had survived with no more than a few bruises.

Her brother on the other hand, hadn't come out of the school.

Her brother; the idiotic, asinine, stupid, fearless, brave hero.

Tears fell from her eyes as she listened to the soft murmurings of family and friends surrounding her. Black was all she saw; blurry, hazy images. Her mother with tears streaming down her face. Her father stoic. Family and friends trying to shush the small toddlers who would giggle not understanding what was happening.

She sighed and walked outside onto the deck, the moonlit sky soothing her. Telling her that he was there. Not that it was anything other than bull in her mind that made it easier for other people when it came to grief. To tell people that had lost, that their loved one was were still around.

She wished he was. She wished she could feel his arms around her and telling her it was all going to be okay.

She turned around when she heard a small whimper. She smirked and sat on the rocking chair. Her arms reaching out and stroking the family beagle.

Woody.

Stupid name for such a feminine looking dog but fifteen years ago Alex had been adamant, especially when Woody seemed to permanently walk around with his name sake. He humped everything.

And now all the pain and hurt and sadness, she could see in those beautiful big, dark eyes. She lifted the dog up and place the mix of white and black fur in her lap. Long after everybody had gone home. Long after her parents had gone to bed. Long into the night when it became pink and orange and the sun was just starting to set, Andy stayed in the rocker with Woody in her lap.

And every time she cried a little, he would lap up those tears.

...

Four days later.

"And you need to pick Patricia up from the groomers and take her to Miranda's before five." Emily rattled off the list, as Andy kept up on her own notepad.

Before they walked into Runways inner office Emily looked at Andy, with something akin to concern in her eyes.

"How was it?"

Andy barely had the energy to roll her eyes.

"It was a funeral. It was an army funeral. Memorials and soldiers and official addresses with gunshots in the air."

Emily frowned at the pale looking brunette before nodding and continuing to walk.

A few hours later Andy tapped away at her computer filling and cataloguing the inventory for the Calvin Klein shoot. A soft cough from her left distracted her.

Nigel stood in the doorway, a soft smile on his face. He hadn't seen her since she had returned.

"Hey gorgeous."

Andy smiled, "Hello to you to."

Nigel shuffled closer, seemingly unsure of how to approach her.

She hadn't asked for anything the past two weeks, nor had he seen her cry. But she always felt him from behind her shoulder, even when he wasn't there. Just so she knew someone was around.

"How are you doing?"

Andy paused, instead giving him the simple, honest answer.

"I don't know."

Nigel nodded, before his cell rang.

...

Seven hours later, Andy pushed through the heavy door. Her feet had dragged against the thick snow.

Closet opened, Miranda's clothes an inch apart to the left.

The book on the far left of the cherry coloured table next to Viola Orchids.

She felt the ground begin to rumble before Patricia skidded to a halt in front of her. Usually she pulled Andy along on her leash, or proceeded to drip an inordinate amount of drool on shoes that weren't hers. Or try to jump up and hug her. Or try to give her a heart attack, she wasn't sure which.

Instead, she just looked at her. Knowing St Bernard's eyes that followed her.

"Andrea."

Andy bit her lip, before walking slowly down the foyer into the family room, where Miranda always sat in her plush leather chair.

Andy found her waiting with an outstretched hand. She had grabbed the book, and now handed it to Miranda.

She flicked past a few pages before looking up briefly.

"I need the new design layouts from James Holt in the morning. I want some more stories for the girls downloaded onto their Ipad…Kindle whatnots, you take care of that. Flowers for the Senator and the Mayor, their birthday is Sunday, make sure they are delivered by Friday along with the customary Champagne. And the art department is to be reminded that their deadline has changed from Thursday to Tuesday and they should prepare accordingly, less they want to have to deal with HR, especially if the picks are as hideous as last time. And finally…" For the first time since her return Miranda looked up at Andrea. Looked up to eyes, capturing the tiredness that the best concealer couldn't hide.

"You have backdated time of leave of four days. Should you wish to take it?" She waited. The question hung in the air.

Andy paused and looked everywhere but her mercurial boss, before answering finally.

"I'd rather not. I…I'd rather work."

"I won't ask again."

A perfected eyebrow arched.

Andy nodded, "I know. I just… Staying at home in my apartment. With nothing to do but think, and remember. I can do that anywhere. I would just rather work."

Blue eyes took in the words and sized up the lanky, pale brunette. She steeped her fingers under her chin. The slight shaking in Andreas shoulders told her that she was so close to coming undone. More than she had done in the past two weeks. True tears had not been shed yet, she judged.

The silence was the sort of silence, where Andy didn't feel trapped, or suffocated or scared. Or worried that she was going to upset her mother. And despite the fact that Miranda hated personal. She continued to say nothing in the late evening light.

Andy looked up to penetrating eyes and her eyes began to glisten, "I have to work Miranda. It reminds me to…it reminds me to do…any of it…Miranda, it hurts to even breathe. I have always had a big brother, how the hell do I do any of this without one. How do I pour all of my frustration into emails that he would just answer with a comment like, "What do you want me to do I'm in the middle of the dessert getting shot at?"

Miranda snorted lightly, her humour at the sentence not one of malice.

Andy smiled briefly before tears fell, that had begun to bleed into her heart.

"You know. Whenever I accepted calls from his cell, wherever he was. I would be charged with the phone call. So even if he sent me a text that said how are you with a smiley face. He knew it would be costing me fifteen, twenty dollars. And… most of the time, he would send me a blank text. Just to annoy me. To remind me that no matter where he was, he could still be my pain in the ass big brother. He used to send me a blank text every week…"

Her words were soft and heartbroken, "I haven't received a blank text in three..."

She paused trying to calm her tortured breathing, as she sniffed and wiped away her liquid grief.

Miranda stared for a moment before speaking.

"It's cold outside. Would you care for some wine before you go home?"

Andy stared at her with wide eyes, before finally answering.

"I would love some wine."

_an; for my hero_


End file.
